The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 598 The Will of the People

Donna's mood took a sharp turn for the worse that day.

The morning was fine; I went out with anticipation, but Sir Courles was chased away and couldn't leave. The noon was fine; I had a picnic with friends, and Miss Lant even did some drawing for the event. The afternoon was fine; we went to the department store, and Alice picked out a new, looser dress for her. Although she hadn't paid for it yet, the shopkeeper promised to hold it for her. The evening...
“I really don’t understand,” she said, lying on Alice’s bed.

With a few hours left before bedtime, she and Lant could linger a little longer in Alice's bedroom.

In the candlelight by the bedside, Donna's black curly hair appeared layered and textured by its swirls.

"Mom is just having trouble adjusting right now. That's just the kind of person she is. She's too kind; she can't even bring herself to kill a mouse." Alice walked over carrying a candlestick, referring to her mother.

Mrs. Melcher still seemed somewhat afraid of her friend.

"But she'll soon like you—if she gets to know you better."

“I have no doubt about it.” Donna inadvertently revealed a hint of confidence that she usually kept hidden, which greatly surprised her two friends.

She also noticed that her words and actions seemed too arrogant, and quickly made amends: "Oh, I mean I intend to go with the flow, be myself, and change Aunt Melcher's opinion of me with manners and kindness."

"Hmph, you weren't even thinking about it." Alice placed the candlestick at the foot of the bed; it was for Lant.

“Maybe it’ll feel better to talk about it, just like me.” Lant sat at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a princess doll in his hands.

Donna had no choice but to tell the truth: "I was thinking about my uncle."

“Uncle Bello, I hope that’s how I should address him.”

“He’ll be very happy about it,” Donna replied to Lant. “He likes the title; he feels much closer to him than ‘sir.’”

“Uncle Bello,” Alice said. “So what happened to him?”

Donna took a deep breath: "Someone cheated during the competition."

She knew about it because Mr. Melcher told them when he returned.

Lant gripped the doll tightly with both hands, almost as if he were squeezing it: "But that has nothing to do with Uncle Bellow, right? He's the referee, and he's the one who caught the cheating. Who can say he wasn't doing his job properly?"

“That’s the problem,” Donna said worriedly. “Crows hover over the bodies of the fallen, and instead of worrying about the killers, people see the crows as bad luck. Kerry exposed the cheater’s trick, but he also brought bad news; people might turn their anger on him, and that hateful Kules is still lurking around.”

“Sir Curles? He must be preoccupied with something. Father said he used to come every year, but he didn’t come today. Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to hurt Uncle Bello lately,” Alice said.

Donna placed her hands flat on either side of her body, her calves swinging up and down together, as if practicing a swimming style similar to the Water Elemental on the bed: "No, no, no, he's not trapped by something, he's trapped by bird poop. Although it's undignified, it's impossible for him to stay at home forever and ignore Kerry's smooth sailing."

"Bird poop? How did you know?"

Alice and Lant simultaneously widened their eyes: "It's you!"

Donna stopped kicking her legs, turned over seriously in the soft bedding, like a lazy seal: "Even if you are my friends, I will say that this has nothing to do with me."

“Of course! Of course!” Alice nodded repeatedly, while Lant was a little more reserved than her.

“I’ve thought of a way to boost Kerry’s popularity, but it might be a bit dishonest—we could pretend to be strangers and write him thank-you notes—through the newspaper,” Donna said, then, noticing the change in her friends’ expressions, she rejected the idea: “That seems a bit too bad, doesn’t it?”

She ran her fingers through her hair and scratched: "Oh my god, what am I saying? I can't do something like this!"

She was just about to seek justice for Lant from the Earth Mother Cult, and she couldn't do bad things for personal gain while doing good deeds.

“We can support him through legitimate means,” Lant said calmly, still gripping the doll tightly in his hand. “The newspapers say he has improper relationships with many women. We can interview them one by one by name, and then publish the interviews to clear his name.”

"Almighty God! Is this true?!" Donna sat up abruptly.

“It’s in today’s newspaper.” Lant quickly strangled the princess doll—if it had a life of its own.

Alice glared at her, a rare occurrence for her, and forcefully pulled her beloved doll out, then placed her own hand in the doll's grasp.

Lant finally realized he had used too much force, and embarrassed, he let go and whispered an apology to Alice.

"Is it not okay?" She turned around, her face flushed, and Donna remained silent for a long time this time.

"Maybe."

Donna's answer was ambiguous.

She was desperately trying to recall what her mother had said to her before she left.

According to Tritice, Clayton is essentially a good person, but due to some terrible experiences, his behavior is somewhat absurd and he's not a decent person. Yet, he has the ability to make others like and accept him. Otherwise, Donna might very well have been raised by the two of them together.

This shattered Donna's old impression of her uncle, an impression that Tritice had also shaped. Her education at Cinjani College had taught her that "unreliable" was often used to describe a womanizer, and during the move, she had also inadvertently seen some strange letters with lipstick marks in Clayton's tin box where he kept his letters. As a result, she could no longer fully trust Clayton.

What if they actually find something?

Although Clayton isn't the type to deceive people's feelings, he just has a lot of women he likes, but constantly dating without getting married is already a scandal.

"We need to arrange a marriage for him quickly," Donna blurted out.

The topic jumped so quickly that Alice, sitting on the edge of the bed, turned her head in confusion:

Did I miss something again?

Donna sighed, "No, well, let's talk about something else."

Although most of the day was pleasant, there weren't many topics that could keep them chatting until they fell asleep, but fortunately they immediately remembered a big enough topic.

"Have you read the book Miss Truby brought?" Donna asked in a low voice as she climbed onto the bed closer to her friend.

Almost simultaneously, two more pairs of eyes lit up, and the three heads were almost huddled together.

Every young man and woman is curious about the human reproductive process; the only difference is whether they acknowledge it or not. They are all of marriageable age, a time when their curiosity in this area is at its peak.

“I saw it,” Lant said softly.

“Wait a minute,” Alice said, jumping out of bed, running to the door and locking it, then dashing back. “Now it’s ready.”

"Wait a little longer." Donna pulled two strands of hair from her head and tied them around their wrists in a sacred knot as a simple spiritual seal: "Now it's all right."

This was a new trick she had learned in Braco. Sailors at sea lived like they were on a closed, isolated island. The enclosed environment easily fostered extreme emotions. To avoid being harmed by demons, they would weave sacred knots or carve whalebone amulets for protection.

Now, as long as the demons don't get too close, they can't smell the scent of their thoughts.

Lant took a deep breath; the act of touching the taboo had also excited her.

"First of all, the author of that book must be very cultured."

"Do you know how big of a mess you've made?!" Mr. Truby angrily berated his youngest daughter.

The youngest, Trubby, stood at the table, clutching the red handprints on her face—the third one, including yesterday's, the overlapping marks making her left cheek particularly swollen—and crying her heart out.

Her sister wanted to speak up for her, but when she thought that it might affect her own marriage, she kept quiet.

Mrs. Truby was also supporting her husband at this moment.

They silently cut the food on their plates, ignoring their little daughter who stood there alone, sobbing.

Mr. Truby slumped back in his restaurant seat, leaning on the table, and scratched his fleshy cheeks in frustration.

The conversation with the high-ranking clergy ended in failure; they offered Truby no special treatment and even publicized the incident.

The church in Sasha has never had a clear advantage over pagans. First the Holy Grail Church, then the Druids, and last year they ruined the city's precious metals processing industry in an attempt to counter the influence of the Darkmoon. There was also cheating at the horse race. These consecutive defeats have made the clergy eager to make a name for themselves.

Mr. Truby has status and power, and he is a great example.

Kindness had already made the clergy back down a step, not truly punishing Miss Truby. But it was impossible for them to back down further and pretend nothing had happened.

Truby only hoped that his future son-in-law wouldn't break up with his second daughter over this matter, and he would accept it even if his future son-in-law demanded double the dowry.

Miss Truby finally caught her breath and sobbed as she protested, "That book...that book isn't mine."

"Lying again?!"

Mr. Truby stood up in a rage, raising his hand to strike, but seeing his youngest daughter's terrified expression and instinctive dodge, he pulled his hand back, panting heavily.

"Go back to your room! No one is allowed to speak to her without my permission!"

He glanced around, and naturally no one objected to him.

Miss Truby went back to her bedroom crying.

She cried until her lips went numb and then recovered, until she couldn't cry anymore and her tears dried up. For some reason, she suddenly thought of Donna Bello.

She wasn't actually familiar with Donna, but before, she told everyone that strange things had happened at the cemetery, and no one believed her, but Donna believed her. Later, she even came forward to prove that it was grave robbers who had broken into the school, leaving Principal Catherine speechless.

So, can Donna clear her name this time as well?